


casualty of war

by thoroughlytrash



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, M/M, Tattoos, basically most of the 104th training corps are dead, captain!mikasa, commander!jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoroughlytrash/pseuds/thoroughlytrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“The tattoo,” she tells him, “the initials. M and B.” He sends her a painful look, as if she should recognize them, but she’s not able to – and instead watches as he runs a hand through his hair.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Casualty of war,” he explains silently, and as he sits down across from her he doesn’t bother asking about the tattoo on her skin; the E on the inside of her arm speaks more than enough.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	casualty of war

She first sees the tattoo etched onto his skin when it’s the umpteenth time they seek comfort in each other, plagued by constant nightmares and memories of the past. They met after a couple of long years, split by the war. Most of their teammates and friends from the 104th Training Corps are dead, their dreams and goals ruined by Titans.

When they find each other, he’s the commander – and she can’t help but think he fits the role, her thoughts flying back to the previous one; Erwin Smith – and she’s the captain, and Armin, who’s still by her side due to some miracle, is his advisor. They see each other first, in the courtyard, when she’s training some in hand-to-hand combat, the only one without something to do. He’s walking around, one of his advisors next to him, when he looks up and his eyes meet hers – it’s like the first time they met.

When she sees him, she notices he looks the same, yet not – his eyes are the same honey gold, though they’re held down by the black bags under them, his hair is kept the same, but it’s slightly longer, and she can see the scars kept on his body. Their eyes meet for a moment, but it’s continued later, in the comfort of his office that she visits.

(She tells herself that she wouldn’t do it if the others were alive, that it’s because no one else from the trainee group has survived the war, but she thinks, deep in her mind, that she doesn’t know. She can’t tell, doesn’t know if she would’ve been with Eren if the war hadn’t treated him so roughly and sent him to rest underneath the ground.)

“What does it mean,” she asks him when they kissing and her hands are over his body, tracing each scar before they encounter a small rise of skin and her eyes open to gaze down there, where small initials M and B are etched into the skin. He silences her with a kiss and she forgets about it for a moment.

She remembers the next morning, after waking up earlier than him – without nightmares, as always, when they lie next to each other, wrapped to form one. She gets up slowly, slipping a shirt of his over her head and her underwear to maintain at least a thread of decency. She makes coffee as she waits for him.

He enters the kitchen when she’s sitting down, sipping on her coffee in bliss, as he greets her, pouring himself a cup.

“What does it mean?” she asks him again, her mind clearer this time. He’s shirtless, in boxers and she knows he can’t pretend it’s not there.

“What?”

“The tattoo,” she tells him, “the initials. M and B.” He sends her a painful look, as if she should recognize them, but she’s not able to – and instead watches as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Casualty of war,” he explains silently, and as he sits down across from her he doesn’t bother asking about the tattoo on her skin; the E on the inside of her arm speaks more than enough.

(She sometimes wonders if they met somewhere else – in a different universe – would they still go for each other, still spend their nights together, full of whispered words and empty promises. She can’t answer that, she thinks, not as she watches him talking with Armin, not when she catches herself staring at him.)

She asks Armin about the tattoo when curiosity has gotten the best of her, and though _curiosity killed the cat_ is echoing through her head, the blonde boy looks at her, worried for a brief moment.

“Marco Bodt,” he tells her, watching her. She’s still taller than him – his growth spurt hasn’t brought much, despite his wishes – and his eyes meet hers.

She should have known, she should have remembered – and it’s almost funny, almost, if the situation wasn’t so damn harsh, that she’s forgotten. Eren won’t be forgotten, she knows, she’s heard of the plans of a statue to commemorate his memory, and she remembers the boy’s freckled face and kind smile. He won’t receive a statue, becoming just another _casualty of war,_ and she knows no one will remember his name.

(And she wonders, quietly, if all of them will be forgotten soon, the memories of them sinking into the Earth. She thinks that it’ll be better like that, for all of them to be able to rest without others bringing them up. It’s a selfish thought, but she can’t help it, she thinks, as she feels the warm gust of air on her neck and smiles.)

**Author's Note:**

> i still don't know what this is, but got the idea a few days ago and had to write it ;0
> 
> //on a side note, feel free to submit any prompts !!


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